Archive for the anxiety Category

It’s been four days since my lover told me he couldn’t handle dating me while trying to achieve sexual sobriety. The couple of people I’ve talked to about this (and I’ve kept it limited) have essentially said: “Sorry, that sucks, but you clearly dodged a bullet.”

I hate that phrase, even while I understand what they mean by it. I escaped the extended heartbreak and risk that by all probability would have come along with loving someone who is deeply emotionally damaged. I’ve avoided pain resulting from being in relationship with someone who has alternated between alcohol, drugs and sex to escape his pain and who has not been able to sustain a loving, intimate relationship with anyone. I’m relatively unscathed.

Relatively.

I’ve spent the last three days sobbing off and on, with my brain circling around like a caged animal, snarling at the idea of losing this person I’ve fallen for. One moment convincing myself to just let it go, be thankful it wasn’t for longer and accept that trying to make it work would be even more heartbreaking. The next trying to think of reasons it would work and why I should contact him just to stay in touch. You know…stay connected so that once he’s healthy we can try again. Betwixt it all, the fragility of my self-esteem runs like a thread of darkness, whispering, “Here’s another man who is willing to give you up because you’re incapable of inspiring love or loyalty”. Common sense pulls me away from that chasm to smack me upside the head: “Really, you crazy bitch? A former junkie alcoholic who is just now entering a 12 step program for sex addiction, who can’t even be around you after 12 days of celibacy for fear he’s going to completely lose it, and you want to make this about YOU?” Then I think about him holding my hand in the park, pulling my head to his chest as we cuddle, teaching me how to swing a golf club at midnight, or kissing me until my legs tremble and I break down sobbing all over again, terrified I’ll never feel this way about someone ever again.

And there’s the crux of it. I’ve felt something that I don’t want to lose; the thought of going without it makes me feel bleak. How can I go back to dating and trying to see who ticks off the appropriate items on my list? I’ve spent two months barely able to think about anything but him, feeling something extraordinary. I found myself watching the way he moved his body and hearing the inflection in the way he said my name and thinking how beautiful he was, like some love-struck teenager. Yes, I tried like hell to insulate myself with all the arguments against it. I tried to date other people, hoping it would stop the head-over-heels fall into insanity. None of it worked and finally I had almost managed to convince myself I didn’t need to worry. It would all work out.

Logically, I know this is infatuation. The only way forward is cold turkey, right? No contact, no reaching out to find out how he is and trying like hell to stay busy. I’ve made the mistake over and over of not moving on and I don’t want to keep doing it. Between my propensity for extreme sensitivity to emotion and the already compromised and barely healed state of my emotional health, I’ve got to keep moving forward. When I made the decision to live nearly 6 years ago, it was with the knowledge that the consequences of giving into my depression are too severe. Becoming immobilized is not an option.

But this fucking sucks and I want to scream and cry. I want to not feel terror claw at my throat when I think of trying to date again, because this feeling is so awful and wrenching that I wonder if it’s easier to just give up on love completely. I’m really close to saying “Fuck it” and just not trying anymore and I’m cursing myself for being fool enough to be in this situation, when I had reservations from the beginning. The phrase “the heart wants what the heart wants”, that I’ve always thought was complete self-indulgent crap, is making sense to me right now.

And there’s still this self-mocking voice that can recognize that the detox I’m going through and all the analysis and strong emotion that its eliciting is probably similar to what he’s going through while trying to be celibate. This feeling is like a drug and it’s going to take time and removal from the source to get sober. I guess I need to settle in for the mood swings, tears, anger and railing against fate that I’m in for while the drug leaves my system; hopefully it will be a short period of time.

So, I’m still dating the younger man and to say it’s gone well is an understatement. Every date is better than the last! My response? Utter and complete panic.

So, I do what any woman in a panic does: I try desperately to widen my options in an attempt to not care one way or the other. I accept another date with a “good on paper” man. He’s in his forties, attractive, has children, has a steady job and seems intelligent and thoughtful. We meet at a local restaurant and when he arrives, I’m happy to see he is quietly attractive and able to hold a conversation. He vaguely reminds me of Mr. Rogers and I attempt to ignore the visions in my head of him in a cardigan.

The dinner conversation leads me into vast and extensive knowledge of his past…his paternity, the paternity of his children, his shame (yet secret pride) over the woman who used him only for sex and wanted to pay him for it with tokens of her esteem. I left the date with my head spinning and it took several days to process the information.

I stupidly agreed to another date with Mr. Rogers before I had time to process the date. Indecisive, I use events in my life to postpone with him, to try to stall and give me time to make a decision.

Meanwhile, I had a date with the younger man that was so lovely and honest; he tells me he isn’t going to sleep with anyone else, but thinks it’s too early to be exclusive. What??? Talk about a confusing situation.

So, I agree to that 2nd date after all, hoping Mr. Rogers will manage to salvage things somehow so I feel less vulnerable with the other man. Instead, he heaps more information on me about his childhood and his family, his ex-wife and his sexual exploits. He coyly talks about being passed around amongst his daughter’s friends mothers (still with me??) like a “stud for hire”, then informs me that he was also a “teacher of 18 year old girls”? Say what?

Indeed. Apparently, while hooking up for some meaningless sex (that he was ridiculously good at, but that made him feel deep shame over the superficiality…but to be clear, he was REALLY good at it…so good they gave him gifts and gave up their sex club memberships and…oh wait…deep, deep shame), he looked up to find an audience of 18 year old girls watching him demonstrating his prowess.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I have NEVER been in the middle of sex and suddenly realized people were watching WITH NO CLUE THEY WERE THERE. Oh wait, I should clarify. I’ve never had an audience, but I think I would realize there were more people in the room than I’d started with. Apparently, they enjoyed watching so much they came back for future performances. Somehow, he seemed to believe this was good information for me to have on our SECOND DATE.

So, to recap, my “Good on paper/Mr. Rogers” guy that I agreed to go out with as a way to reject my deep attraction to “Bad on paper/Hot guy” turned out to be “Troubled Childhood/Stud-for-hire/Creepy guy who lets 18 year old girls watch him have sex/Too much information” guy. Ironic, isn’t it?

So, I won’t be seeing Mr. Rogers anymore.

I’ve had to face the facts: This man that I’m dating does it for me in a way no one ever has before. Even better, strip away the sexual tension and he still makes me think and feel in a way that doesn’t usually happen. He’s been honest and upright about where he’s at and the ways in which he’s struggling and I have respect for him because of it.

And I am scared out of my mind.

I’m scared that I’ll fall for him and it won’t work out. I’m scared I’ll fall for him and he’ll hurt me. I want reassurance and a crystal ball so that I can know the outcome before I risk anymore.

Of course, that’s not going to happen.

Love is a risk and if I proceed, it’s with full knowledge and acceptance that hurt might come with it. Which leaves me with a tightness in my chest some nights, yet knowing I can’t turn back until I KNOW. And until then, I suppose I just have to practice taking a deep breath and try to enjoy the journey. Stop fighting it.